Dead And Buried (Cooper and Fry) by Stephen Booth Read Free Book Online Page A

a supply of masks if we’re going to be out here any length of time,’ she said.
    Cooper nodded. ‘I’ll organise it.’
    So far she hadn’t greeted him, let alone acknowledged that she’d known him for years, had served with him, been his immediate supervisor before his promotion to detective sergeant. More than that, they’d been through a lot together, and no one could argue that they owed each other something. At least that was how Cooper felt.
    He was used to this taciturn way, of course. Most of his own family were like that. But in their case they didn’t need to speak because they understood each other’s thoughts without words. It was a silence born of ease and familiarity. With Fry, there was no question of either. He felt neither easy nor familiar in her presence. If she didn’t speak, he had no idea what she was thinking.
    A few minutes later they stood together at the partially excavated site. Fry looked down at what Abbott had uncovered.
    ‘David Pearson,’ she said.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Any indication of, er …?’
    ‘Trisha. Yes, evidence of her too.’
    ‘There’s quite a story to the Pearson inquiry,’ said Fry.
    ‘It’s allin the file,’ said Cooper. ‘Not our greatest success.’
    ‘It was more than two years ago. But there were theories …’
    Abbott shook his head. ‘I’ve done a presumptive test for blood on the rucksack. It’s positive.’
    ‘Could it be animal blood? If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in the Peak District, it’s that these sheep are suicidal. They all have a death wish.’
    ‘They might be suicidal,’ said Cooper, ‘but they don’t dig shallow graves for themselves. When they die, they generally just lie about on the surface until the scavengers get to them.’
    ‘Grave?’ said Fry.
    ‘Well, it seems to be where the possessions of David and Trisha Pearson were buried. Whether the Pearsons are also dead and buried … I guess that’s what you’re here to find out.’
    ‘No bodies, then.’
    ‘No,’ said Cooper. ‘No bodies. Not yet.’
    Fry turned and pointed.
    ‘The building I passed a mile or two back,’ she said. ‘A pub, is it?’
    ‘It was.’
    The auctioneer’s sign on the wall of the Light House was legible from half a mile away, and visible from much further.
Historic landmark inn.
Cooper wondered how many more questions he would have to give obvious answers to.
    ‘It’s been empty for about six months,’ he said.
    ‘Looks a grim place.’
    ‘It wasn’t so grim when it was open.’
    ‘I’ll take your word for it.’
    ‘You don’t remember it, do you?’
    Fry frowned. On her face a frown looked more like ascowl, as if being forced to remember something made her really angry.
    ‘Have I been there?’ she said.
    ‘Yes, with me,’ said Cooper.
    ‘No, I don’t recall the occasion, then.’
    ‘Never mind.’
    Cooper remembered it, though. He recalled sitting in the conservatory after driving up here from Fry’s flat in Edendale one summer evening, when it stayed light long enough for them to enjoy the spectacular views for an hour or two. It had been busy at the Light House that night, but they’d managed to get a table in the conservatory, just as the first drops of rain began to fall on the glass roof. He remembered being surprised when he offered to buy the drinks and Fry asked for a vodka. When he thought back, he could still recall the clatter of those raindrops on the roof, sounding much too loud in the awkward pauses in their conversation. The memory was so firmly lodged in his brain that the sound of rain had become a sort of musical accompaniment to the history of their relationship.
    And Fry said she didn’t remember it. Well, he wasn’t surprised. She was capable of erasing him from her life as easily as she might wipe away a splash of rain.
    It was amazing to think now that he’d once considered … well, it was probably best not think about it at all. He was marrying Liz Petty in a few months’